STALK A TIGER FAIL TO BAG 181 



open country led us to the top of the ridge, from whence a 

 glorious view was obtained, the surrounding country lying 

 like a map at our feet. Here and there might be seen the 

 river Shweli with its tributaries glistening in the sun like 

 silver threads, the Kin and the Momeik, whose combined waters 

 eventually empty themselves into the Irrawady, and an occa- 

 sional glimpse of the broad waters of the latter some thirty-five 

 miles off. It was while standing admiring the grand panorama 

 stretched out before us, that my attention was drawn to five or 

 six doe sambur, which, emerging in single file from the dense 

 woods at our feet some 400 yards off, began feeding slowly 

 along up the side of the hill quite unconscious of our presence. 

 After the last animal had disappeared over the ridge I was 

 just about to try a stalk, as our stock of fresh meat required 

 replenishing, when another animal emerged from the wood, 

 trotted up to the top of the ridge near where the sambur had 

 passed, and lay down. Thinking that this was another sambur 

 and that it would be easily approached, I took my 8-bore, 

 having no other weapon with me at the time, and began 

 the stalk. For the first 200 yards or so it was easy 

 enough, but after that there was little or no cover behind 

 which I could screen my advance. Whilst pondering how I 

 was to get any nearer without being discovered, I noticed the 

 animal's tail flick upwards once or twice with a quick spas- 

 modic jerk, and then only it dawned upon me that the animal 

 lying basking in the sun a couple of hundred yards from me 

 was a tiger. This was rather a shock, and something I had 

 not bargained for. I was determined, however, not to back 

 out or show any signs of funk, as my men were watching my 

 every action, and it would not have done to let them have the 

 impression that I was afraid to face any animal. I succeeded, 

 after a great deal of tortuous manoeuvring, in lessening the 

 distance between us to about 150 yards, and flattened myself 

 out behind a small clump of ferns. I lay like a log in this 

 position for over three minutes, in the hope of seeing the tiger 

 get up and move in my direction, near enough to enable me 

 to get home an accurate shot. What would I not have given 

 at that moment for a good '577, -450, or even '256 rifle ! I was 

 not a good enough shot, nor yet sufficiently accustomed to 



